Aftermath
by Spookykat
Summary: It'll be fine.  He'll survive it.  Kurt will survive it.  They'll be fine.  That's his mantra as he winds his way out of Kurt's neighborhood and towards the highway that leads home.  But it doesn't make it suck any less.
1. Chapter 1

It's Kurt's _prom_. They should be making out in The Navigator in between light-changes on the way to Kurt's house, but instead, the air is as thick as peanut butter with tension and humidity.

Initially during _Dancing Queen_, Kurt was smiling and laughing, trying to pretend like none of it had happened, but then Garnet Donavan, a Cheerio who'd helped him with the choreography for _Le Jazz Hot_, came up to him and hugged him. "Normally, I don't care about the prom queen crap, but San and Quinn were both being kind of ridiculous, and I voted for Lauren, because I really didn't want either of those bitches to win…but I'm really sorry _you _did. I felt SO BAD for you, but you just got up there and owned it and…" she hugs him.

"Thanks," Kurt says awkwardly.

"Hey," she says, giving Blaine the once-over. " At least you got a hot date, right? That's more than I can say."

"You really rock that crown, Kurt," Becky says seconds after Garnet leaves. "You must be really proud everyone voted for you."

"Proud doesn't even describe it, Becky," Kurt says through his teeth.

Blaine knows the façade is close to cracking, that his boyfriend is teetering on the edge of losing it, and he can't really do a damn thing about it.

"Baby-love," Mercedes said as soon as _Dancing Queen_ was over. "Kate Middleton's got _nothing_ on you. You are so brave and so amazing and I just…" she sniffled and hugged him. "You're one of my heroes, you know that?"

"So are you Baby-girl," he says. "Look at you! Dancing with Sam Freaking Evans."

"We didn't really go together…"

'Hey, it's not who you come to prom with," Artie says. "It's who you leave with. Kurt..." he says. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Kurt nodded. "I think I really just want to put this whole thing behind me."

"Hey, Kurt," Puck says. "I'm going on the down-low on Monday to find out who stuffed the ballots. Then I'll shove the ballots up their asses."

"That's…really not necessary, Puck," Kurt says with a role of his eyes. "I think I just want to go home."

"Probably not a bad idea," Blaine says. "I told your dad I'd have you home by midnight. We should probably head out."

"Call me later?" Mercedes asks.

Kurt nods and Blaine offers his hand. "Let's make like a tree," Blaine whispers in Kurt's ear. Blaine really hopes that now that they're out of that horrible gym, it'll be better, that Kurt will be Kurt again and they can just get back to the way things should be on Kurt's prom night.

But it isn't.

"Thank GOD that's over," Kurt breathes. Blaine wraps his arm around Kurt, but Kurt extracts himself from Blaine's grasp.

"I really REALLY just…want to forget that ever happened."

"At least we didn't get beaten to a bloody pulp," Blaine says with an awkward laugh. "I'll call that a win." Kurt flashes him a dirty look and pulls out of the parking lot.

Blaine can cut the tension in the car on the ride to Kurt's with a butter-knife.

"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" Blaine asks tentatively.

Kurt shrugs. "Whatever you want," he says noncommittally, barely even acknowledging Blaine's presence, but rolls his eyes as soon as the opening strains of _Survivor _comes over the speakers.

"It's like they KNOW me!" Blaine crows. He rolls down the window and cranks up the volume, and starts to sing along, dancing in his seat.

"_I'm a survivor,_

_I'm not gonna give up,_

_I'm not gon' stop,_

_I'm gonna work harder,_

_I'm a survivor,"_

"Come on, Kurt! I need some back-up vocals here!"

"_I'm gonna make it,_

_I will survive,_

_Keep on survivin,_

_I'm a survivor,_

_I'm not gonna give up,_

_I'm not gon' stop,_

_I'm gonna work harder,_

_I'm a survivor,_

_I'm gonna make it,_

_I will survive,_

_Keep on survivin'."_

"God, Blaine!" Kurt snaps, shutting the volume off with a click. "You _do_ realize you're not a proud black woman, right?"

"Oh, that's nice, especially coming from the guy belting out Whitney Houston on the way to the gym. In a kilt."

"You leave Whitney Houston out of this!" Kurt says in that high register of his that Blaine is finding _really_ annoying right now. "I thought you _liked_ the kilt!"

"You know what?" Blaine snaps. "I was being nice."

"That's the problem with you, Blaine. You're always just being…_nice _and _polite_. When I get home tonight, Carole will say you're such a NICE boy, so POLITE, and how much she _likes_ you because it's EASY to like someone who is polite and nice like you are. Nice and polite boys like you would NEVER ever get voted prom queen BY THE WHOLE SCHOOL. But you know what I think of NICE, POLITE boys?"

"I don't know," Blaine says icily. He knows it's misplaced anger. He knows Kurt's not really mad at him, exactly, and he'll probably call and apologize tomorrow, but right now, he's not thinking that far ahead. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"That they've got a BIG FAT STICK shoved so far up their asses there's not enough room up there for anything else!"

Blaine wants to say the perfect thing. He wants to tell Kurt he knows what this is really about, that he's not really mad at him, but at the moment, he just scowls and stares out the window as Kurt pulls up to the house.

"So…" Blaine finally says, because Kurt has this infuriating way of not letting him be perfect.

"So." Kurt responds, nodding towards the porch. The lights had just come on. "My dad's waiting."

"Kurt…I…" Blaine begins, but Kurt holds a hand up in protest.

"Just forget it. I'll call you tomorrow," he says, and lets out a defeated sigh, and gets out of the car and waves.

Blaine waves back, but he feels silly for doing it as soon as he does, because Kurt's back is turned and he doesn't see the gesture. He knows Kurt will be fine. He knows he'll tell his dad and Finn and anyone else who doesn't know any better that everything was great with a fake smile of his own. He knows that he'll get a text from Kurt tomorrow asking if he wants to hang out. They'll go for coffee, apologize, and maybe have a make-up make-out session, and things will start righting themselves again.

Tonight was so far removed from the magic it was supposed to be, and this wasn't quite the scene from any given John Hughes movie that he imagined it to be.

It'll be fine. He'll survive it. Kurt will survive it. They'll be fine. That's his mantra as he winds his way out of Kurt's neighborhood and towards the highway that leads home. He knows it's true. It really _will_ be fine.

But it doesn't make it suck any less.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt saw the trashcan still sitting on the curb and pulled it into the garage before chucking the crown and scepter, and vaguely considered crawling inside of it for the rest of eternity, and weighed the pros and cons of adopting it as a permanent residence. It wouldn't be so bad. Sure, the smell would be awful, but if he convinced Carole to get those scented trash bags, he'd spent enough quality time in dumpsters to know that it wasn't THAT horrible. That way, he wouldn't have to face his family. He wouldn't have to face the rest of McKinley on Monday. He wouldn't have to face _Blaine_.

Blaine…whom he had just yelled at for being…nice and polite.

It was official. He was officially crazier than Snookie and LiLo and any given Real House Wife combined. He belonged in a straight jacket. Good thing he already had a _fabulous_ one in pure white waiting for him in his closet. Functional, fashion-forward, and situationally appropriate. Tim Gunn would approve.

He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, but they'd already seen him pull up, and Finn's and Carole's voices could be heard on the other side of the kitchen door.

"Finn, my mother _always_ had an opinion about the people I dated, although considering your father and Burt were pretty much the cream of the crop, I can kind of understand her concern, but anyway, that's neither here nor there. My point is, I promised myself I wouldn't interfere in my kid's love-life, but sweetie, I think the time has finally come when I just have to say something."

"But mom! Jesse was on second base _in public_ and rounding third with the whole school RIGHT THERE! It was gross! I had to stop it!"

"I get that it's not exactly fun watching someone you used to be in a relationship with making out with someone else," she said, checking the bruise Jesse had left. "Lord knows I've had more experience with that than I'd like to admit, but honey, _Quinn_ is your girlfriend. _Quinn_ was your date tonight. Now, I know you and Rachel have a history, and I know that you care about her, but sweetie, you had NO business interfering."

"Quinn's kind of been…scary with the prom queen stuff. She's been making me hand out pins with our names on it, baking cookies for all the jocks with our pictures in icing. It's kind of…demeaning."

"Honey, you do realize that Rachel made you couple calendars?"

"Rachel's kind of crazy. But at least she was never really…mean, and I always knew she cared about me for _me_, and she didn't give a crap whether or not I was the head quarterback. With Quinn…I love her, don't get me wrong, but, I always wonder what would happen if certain things changed, you know?"

"Well now it's over and…"

"Kurt!" Finn beamed. "Blaine's not coming in?" he asked. Kurt shook his head. "I thought his parents gave him an extended curfew."

"They did," Kurt said.

"So, how was prom, Kiddo?" Burt said, coming in from the living room.

"It was great!" Kurt said stiffening almost imperceptibly and giving them his brightest smile.

"Too bad Blaine didn't come in," Carole said. "I couldn't get home in time before you guys left. Burt, _please_ tell me you got plenty of pictures."

"Are you kiddin'? I think I filled up a whole roll."

"It's not a roll, anymore dad, it's a memory-card," Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, if we're lucky, a few of 'em didn't have my thumb on the lens. Did you guys have fun?"

"Mmmhmmm," Kurt murmured, faking a yawn.

"Hey, did Quinn win?" Finn asked.

"What?" Kurt asked, feeling a knot rising in his throat.

"Oh yeah, she and Santana were competing for Prom Queen, weren't they?" Carole said.

"And Lauren, but that was the long-shot," Finn replied. "If she didn't win, my life is going to be an absolute _living hell_ because I know she'll find some way to pin it on me…so…did she? Win?"

Kurt shook his head. He hated the feel of the tears that started springing to his eyes again. He thought he'd cried it all out. He thought he was done being angry because he'd showed them he was _better_ than they were. He thought he'd just be able to smile and lie and go up to his room and cry himself to sleep and that would be that.

If this had happened before his brother started dating someone with prom queen ambitions, then maybe he would've gotten that luxury, but now, it there was no way to avoid it.

"Kurt?" his dad asked. "Everything okay?"

"Quinn didn't win prom queen," he said softly "I did."

"What the hell?" Burt exploded, making everyone jump. "How the hell does that even happen?"

"I was written-in, apparently. By the whole school."

"You were supposed to be looking out for him, Finn," Burt yelled. "How the HELL did you let this happen?"

"I had no clue!" Finn said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"He didn't Dad! None of the glee kids knew it was going on."

"Where's the phonebook? I KNEW there was something up with that kid!"

"It wasn't his fault," Kurt said quickly.

"Burt, honey," Carole said. "It's past midnight."

"I don't care what time it is, I'm giving his dad a call RIGHT NOW."

"I don't think Karofsky had anything to do with it either. He was the Prom King."

"Really? Karofsky?" Finn asked, dumbfounded. "Huh."

Whatever anyone was going to say was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

"Who the hell could that be at this hour?" Burt muttered.

"Mr. Hummel," Rachel said., with Mercedes and Sam in tow. "So sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but Kurt left in such a hurry that…" she inhaled sharply at the sight of Finn. "Finn, I didn't realize you'd still be up. I thought you'd be at Noah's Post-Prom Party by now."

"He's grounded," Carole said.

"But Mom!"

"You thought you'd be able to get in a fight at school and not be punished?"

"I was kinda banking on the fact that I'd already punished myself enough."

"Finn, we will talk about how long your punishment will last in the morning. For now, though, I think we should give Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes some privacy."

"They're my friends too!" Finn objected.

"Finn!" Carole said, jerking her head towards the door. "Go to your room!"

"You guys help yourselves to anything in the fridge," she said. She paused to hug Kurt. "I am about to turn into a pumpkin, so I'm going to go to bed. Burt?" She said tugging at her husband's hand. "Come on, sweetie."

"Kurt, sorry that happened to you, kid," he said, ruffling his hair. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Where's Blaine?" Mercedes demanded as soon as everyone left.

"He went home," Kurt said, lingering longer than he would've liked on the 'M,' tone telling much more than he wanted to give away.

"What, why?" all three of them asked at once.

"I know that boy did NOT leave you alone in your time of need!" Mercedes ranted. "That fool has done some stupid, idiot things in his day, but leaving you alone when you've just been publically humiliated…"

"It wasn't HIS fault," Kurt said.

"Kurt, you're just being charitable," Rachel said. "We shall drive up to Westerfield and….and…and…help me out here, Mercedes."

"String him up by his stumpy little legs!" Mercedes finished.

"I don't like violence, Mercedes, but in this case…he deserves it."

"Remind me never to piss you off," Sam directed at Mercedes.

"Guys, that's _really_ not necessary," Kurt said.

"Of course it is," Rachel said.

"Woah, I am not going to be participating in wringing up anybody by their legs, stubby or otherwise," Sam said.

"Relax, Sammy-boy," Mercedes said. "We're not going to hurt him. Not permanently, anyway."

"No! Mercedes! This is insane!"

"Abandoning you in your hour of crisis is just inexcusable," Rachel said. "We will be back at an incredibly late hour, but if I tell my dads we were helping some poor, helpless bystander after consoling you after your traumatic and humiliating prom experience, they won't punish me. If we leave now we can…"

"Guys! _Blaine_ wasn't…".

"Kurt," Rachel said. "Many a significant other has been in your shoes, and I, too, am no exception. This happened all the time when I was dating Finn. And Jesse. And the brief exercise in futility and frustration that was dating Noah Puckerman. They would treat me badly, and I would constantly excuse their behavior, but really, I shouldn't have, and neither should _you_. Kurt, I know you think Blaine's the sun and the moon, but he's just _human_."

"Rachel, get out of my shoes! Guys, look, I appreciate the concern, but could you just listen for two seconds?"

"Nice try, Kurt…" Mercedes said.

"No! I'm serious! Blaine wasn't the bad boyfriend tonight! I was."

"Come again?" Mercedes asked.

"I may have yelled at him for being nice and supportive," Kurt said, tracing the tile on the kitchen with his toe. "

"What brought that on?" Mercedes asked.

"We were driving home. He was blasting _Survivor_ and all he wanted was for me to sing along with him…and I just…snapped."

"Kurt," Rachel said, taking his hand. "You'd just gotten publically humiliated by the whole school, I can see how that…might not have been the right tone to set. You weren't angry at _Blaine_, you were just…angry at the situation. You wanted someone to yell at, and he was right there."

"I know I'm supposed to find it comforting that you understand where I'm coming from, Rachel," Kurt said, burying his face in his hands. "But really, I just find it a little terrifying."

"No, I totally get it dude," Sam said. "Santana used to do that to me all the time. I got yelled at a lot. You know she used to actually punch me? Never left any bruises or anything, but that kinda hurt. Although the sex was hotter when she was mad…but…you guys didn't need to know that."

"Way to over-share, Sam," Mercedes said.

"Good LORD I know I did NOT just get compared to the Devil herself!"

"Would it make you feel better if Quinn did it, too?" Sam asked.

"Maybe."

"Look, Kurt," Sam said. "I get why you were upset, you know? Blaine was trying to help, but he wasn't really helping. It wasn't HIS fault and you shouldn't have taken it out on him, but I kinda get why you did. Blaine's pretty smart. I think he knows what the deal is, and I bet if you apologize tomorrow, everything will be fine."

"For somebody who thought Justin Beiber was the way to win popularity, you're actually pretty smart," Mercedes said.

"Justin Beiber?" Kurt said, eyebrow raised.

"I thought I told you about all that?" Mercedes said, smacking his arm.

"Apparently I have selective amnesia," Kurt said, standing up and grabbing his keys off the counter.

"Kurt, it is past midnight now! You won't even make it back until 4 AM! You are NOT going all the way to Westerfield at this hour! That's insane!"

"It's prom night! Who knows how many inebriated drivers there are?" Rachel protested.

"Guys," Kurt said. "Blaine already has one really horrible school dance memory. I'm not giving him another one. I can't this be the way tonight ends. I just can't."

"Text me the minute you get home," Mercedes sighed.

"And let us know how it goes tomorrow okay?" Rachel added.

"Good luck, Bro!" Sam said.

"It's bad luck to say good luck, Sam, everybody knows that!" Rachel fussed. "He means break a leg. Be safe!"

"Be quiet or you'll wake up his parents!" Mercedes hissed.

"To Westerfield, yes you go," Sam said, making the Star Trek 'V' with his fingers. "And win back your harmonious hobbit. Careful driving you do."

"Wow, I dodged the bullet with you, didn't I Sam?" Kurt said, but he was grinning.


End file.
